


Homestead

by wanderamaranth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Homesteading, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderamaranth/pseuds/wanderamaranth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel had been a sheriff once, years ago. Now he raises pigs and watches bees and cares for a farm with Dean, and he wouldn't have it any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homestead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WarpedMinded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpedMinded/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: WesternAU! - 'Sheriff Castiel Milton was a quiet man, but his soulful gaze and handsome looks drew the attention of a green eyed thief that roams around the country side.' - You can take this anywhere, have fun with it! Can be Dean/Castiel or Jensen/Misha.
> 
> And well...I used the basic premise, of Castiel being a sheriff and Dean being a thief, and it turned into this. I hope you enjoy it.

Castiel had been a sheriff once, years ago. He can hardly remember that time in his life, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He might have once mourned the loss of his office, but if he did, he can't recall.

For now, being here on their farm is enough. He can tend the pigs and watch as the bees pollinate their crops; he can listen to Dean complain about their neighbors and fuss over the farm's constantly-in-need-of-repair irrigation system. They can argue over the necessity of a cat for the barn (Castiel insists it would help their rodent problem. Dean thinks the rodents are an excuse to get another animal for Castiel to 'coddle' and that it will end up in their house. He's not wrong; Cas thinks a cat would also help with their snake issue, and it would be nice to have another living creature around.) Gone is the stress of carrying a badge and holding a gun, of trying to make decisions based on what he believes others would want him to do. He can just _be,_ in a way that he's never had the luxury of doing before.

He's content.

When they first moved out past the Ohio Valley towards Nebraska to claim their 65 hectacres of land, they'd had their share of problems. Castiel had nightmares of his last hellish year as a sheriff, of gun fights and hangings and the muscle memory of literally twisting a knife in Dean's side in an attempt to stop the man from following him on a suicide run. He dreamt of how he'd told Dean that he didn't need him, that Castiel could handle the gangs of roving bandits that infiltrated their town on his own, that he was just a simple thief and Castiel was a lawman and what good could Dean possibly do?

More than once Dean had woken him gently from these memories only to be snappish and surly towards him afterwards. Only the knowledge of how Dean's face had looked when he realized Castiel had turned in his badge, how he'd softened infinitesimally and swayed into his personal space as Cas begged for his help and forgiveness and admitted what a fool he'd been, kept him together during that time. He'd been a shell of his former self, mumbling to people who weren't there and half-mad from grief and the knowledge of what he'd done in the name of upholding his own personal vision of the law.

But Dean had stubbornly forced him to turn away from the darkness that wanted to swallow him whole and towards the light of living. He'd made him go west, had forced Castiel to stand by his side when he went to the land office to apply for their homestead, and alternatingly cajoled and embarrassed him into lending a hand cutting sod bricks and planting crops and generally getting on with the business of surviving.

It's possible he hasn't forgotten his time as sheriff so much as he'd decided to forget to remember, to lose himself in the daily rhythm of their new lives. Either way, he was with Dean now. Dean had forgiven him, had let go of the last traces of his bitterness on a cold night their first winter on the homestead, had told Castiel that he forgave him through soft lips and strong legs and warm hands holding him close as the snow swirled outside.

It wasn't only their interpersonal relations that presented a challenge. The cowboys that worked for a nearby ranch called Dean a liar and a thief and many other, worse things. A blasphemous stain on the land, for one. A sodding soddie, for another. They weretechnically correct, as they _did_ indeed live in a small house they'd hewn from sod, and they _were_ carnal with one another...but Castiel believed Dean had done no wrongdoing, unlike what the ranchers insinuated. It was one of the few things that roused Castiel to his rare full anger, hearing those men speak to Dean as though what they were doing, what they were building together, was inherently dirty and wrong. How he felt about Dean, and how Dean felt about him, was one of the few things in his life that Castiel felt was pure, and he didn't care for the jealous besmirching that.

They were helped considerably when Sam followed them westward and established his own homestead adjacent to his and Dean's. With him he'd brought Amelia, a pretty young woman with fair skin and wildly tumbling curls who'd lost her husband during a Comanche skirmish at the Battle of the North Fork of the Red River. Sam said he'd met her not long after while wandering the deep south, and they both decided the unrest of Texas was too much for them.

Castiel wasn't certain if their relationship was one of loving or of comfort. Perhaps it was some combination of the two, the way his was with Dean. All he knew was that they'd arrived inNebraska nervous with one another but determined to put forth their best effort towards claiming their own stake of land, and now they were a strong, steady influence on the growing neighborhood. With the two Winchester brothers together along with input from Castiel and Amelia, the ranch hands soon found themselves if not outmatched than at least out-witted, and withdrew from the homesteader's lands, leaving them be to eke out what lives they could among the grass and wind.

Dean was in their tiny kitchen, opening the first of several wooden crates stacked by his feet and cooing at the rows of fragile saplings therein. They'd arrived by train just that morning, and they represented a chance for Dean and Castiel to expand their land claim by another 160 acres, and another source of income, besides...which they would need if they ever wanted to recoup their investment in the trees and current crops to get started on their frame home and move out of the sod house. Castiel loved their home, but he was certainly looking forward to not having to deal with the inconveniences the single room house provided.

“Hey Cas, look. Apple!” Dean grinned, his teeth bright in the dim lantern light as he held a tiny sapling, its roots bound with burlap, up for his inspection. It looked like little more than a stick right now, but Castiel had faith that it'd soon grow tall and strong.

With a gentle smile in return, Castiel said, “It will be nice, to have our own apples from our own trees.”

“And to make pie from our own apples!”

Castiel chuckled; he should have known what Dean's first wish would be for the promised apples. “And to make pie from our own apples,” he agreed. An orchard seemed like a dream when Dean had first suggested it, but now before them was the real possibility of it, the promise of a future where they could stroll through an apple blossom scented thicket and know it was theirs. They'd whispered fantasies to one another on their narrow pallet, walking the paths in their imaginations, seeing green glossy leaves and gentle blue skies instead of the stained muslin stretched across their ceiling, tasting fresh air and sunshine instead of the damp, slightly rancid tang of old sod and decaying cedar boughs. It'd taken months of scrimping and saving, but they'd finally managed to save enough to make the purchase; Castiel was very glad they did. It was satisfying to see Dean happy and to know he had even a small part of making him so.

Dean continued to unearth various trees, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the different varieties. The saplings were a considerable investment and had been shipped at quite an expense. It had meant postponing their plans to build a framed house by a year, perhaps two, but Castiel thought it'd be well worth it. By then, their original homestead would be theirs, free and clear, their five years passed and the deed legally in Dean's name. Castiel planned on purchasing a picture frame with a glass plate to put their deed in, to place upon their future mantel. He'd been selling candles and what home tonics he could easily brew to set aside the coinage for one; maybe, if he were very lucky, he'd be able to afford two and could also frame a copy of their homestead application certificate.

“And spruce, too! Garth said he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to get us any, and here's a whole crate. Slick. These will go great along the creekbank, don't you think? Make a nice wind break for the house once we get it built up.”

Those problems, the years past when all Castiel had to keep him warm at night was his badge and his gun, seem so far away from where he was today. Rising from his seat, Castiel set aside the socks he'd been darning and crossed the short space to Dean's side. He kissed the top of Dean's head, resting his hand on the top of Dean's short hair. When Dean looked up at him, a question on his brow, Castiel knelt and kissed him again, slow and gentle, keeping his hand on the back of Dean's hair to draw him in closer. Dean responded with a low hum in the back of his throat and a soft tug on Castiel's lower lip with his teeth, a tease and a subtle claim all in one motion. He drew away and smiled, eyes pleased and slightly hazy.

“What was that for?” Dean asked, voice gruff. Castiel rarely instigated their intimate encounters; he much preferred that Dean was the pursuer, that Dean showed him how much he wanted Castiel by pushing himself into his personal space and filling empty places he hid within.

“I just...wanted to,” Castiel said. He kissed him again, and this time Dean didn't question it, but simply followed Castiel's lead, exchanging soft nips and gliding touches with an ease born of familiarity.

“I like seeing you happy,” Castiel admitted when they finally parted again, whispering it like it was a secret to be shared just between the two. Dean smiled again, the faint lines that bracketed his eyes deepening the way they did when he was truly pleased.

“I like seeing you happy, too,” Dean whispered back. He then kissed the side of Castiel's face, just below his temple, a gesture of easy affection that made Castiel's breath fall from him in a drifting sigh. “Now c'mon and help me open this last crate. I want to see how the cherry trees fared during travel.”

They had many challenges ahead: another long winter where they wondered if their roof was literally going to cave in over their heads, angry ranchers threatened by the expansion of their lands, the odd attack on their livestock from hungry wild animals. It was still more than Castiel ever expected to have, a peace that he never really believed he would see in his life. As long as Dean stayed by his side, as long as they had one another, Castiel would be happy. The pigs could all escape from the pen and into the tall grass, the bees could find another keeper's hive more to their liking, the cat that they didn't have yet but Castiel knew Dean was secretly planning on getting for him could prefer the solitude of the storage cellar as opposed to the relative comfort of the house. His nightmares he'd forced himself to forget could return twice as strong and three times as powerful as before, as long as Dean was still with him, Castiel would be content.


End file.
